


Revenge and Other Shenanigans

by thehelpfulfrog



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehelpfulfrog/pseuds/thehelpfulfrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rythian the mage needed no one to help him exact revenge on Duncan and Sjin. But apparently, he needed Zoey for entirely different reasons. Not everything was about revenge, right? And not everything had to be a distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you for stopping by! This is my first work on AO3, and I do hope you like it. Second, this story follows the exact plotline of Rythian and Zoeya's Tekkit series, but I have decided to tell it from a more serious perspective. What this means is that it will be written as if the two were in character the entire time, without breaking into their real personalities. I suppose it's not original at all, but I felt compelled to do a retelling of the story, which, by the way, I absolutely LOVE! It is not necessary to have watched the series, but I strongly recommend it. Obviously, I do not own the Yogscast or Minecraft. Make sure to leave a review, even a small one, if you have any opinion at all. It really helps me with my writing ability. Also, if you think of one, PLEASE suggest a better title for this. And, as always, enjoy!
> 
> Yes, I do imagine Rythian with a beard. All wizards need one.

Revenge. That was the thought possessing him now. Surviving in the harsh forest was a challenge, which had swayed his priorities a little, but now his thoughts were all of the screams of his apprentices as the world burned. Of the "great" scientists who had destroyed all he had built, and condemned him to wandering alone in the wilderness. Revenge was everything.

The mage Rythian was brooding on his predicament as he passed under the great arching cliffs into the valley. He needed the fresh water of the lake, which was enclosed by the immense mountains, and had finally taken it upon himself to retrieve it. After weeks without any of his magical abilities, he still could not fully grasp the fact that he had to accomplish such menial tasks by himself. Manually. He could no longer condense all he needed from disgustingly large stockpiles of red matter, and this only fueled his rage at science and all things related to it. Science was changeable. It was complex. It could only destroy itself, even without the wielder's incompetence.

Reaching the lake, Rythian knelt before it and laid his staff on the ground. He scooped a little water out with his pail, drank from it, and then refilled it. Ready to return to his encampment, he stood, but turned back suddenly and stopped to look at his reflection. Honestly, the mage did not recognize the man staring back at him. He had not bothered to clean himself after waking up half-buried in mud, and that was weeks ago. One side of his face was still caked with dirt, mixed with sweat and flecks of blood from the dozens of mobs he had since killed. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and a bit crazed, while his large black beard now contained small streaks of grey. He thought he seemed to have aged several years, and scoffed to himself. A month ago, his youth seemed like his biggest problem, as it lost him respect with the Council. Now he was old, older than they – at least in experience – and he simply felt more weary, but no wiser. All he could do, it seemed, was search blindly ahead for some hope, some sign that he was on the right path to redemption.

And then a girl fell from the sky.

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god OH GOD!" She flailed helplessly as she fell, red hair whipping about and covering her face. Spinning wildly and screaming, there was no way she could right herself fast enough to land safely. Though panicked and very confused, Rythian reacted quickly, as he had been trained, and recited a spell to slow her descent into the lake. Oblivious, she now simply flailed in slow motion.

"Oh god oh god oh god oh… okay. I'm ok? Huh." Floating inches above the water, she spotted Rythian on the bank and waved excitedly. Casually, Rythian released the spell, and she fell the rest of the way into the lake with a splash.

Minutes later, Zoey pulled herself out of the water in front of her master, whose bored expression revealed none of his joy that an apprentice still lived. One who had failed the simplest of lessons, but still.

"Rythian! You're ok!" she squealed joyfully, despite being soaked, freezing, and having nearly died. Stepping forward to embrace him, she stopped and pulled back at his expression. "Um… Master Rythian," she corrected herself. "Anyway, what happened?" Zoey looked around, oblivious and happy, as if expecting to see the great tower in the distance. "I remember those scientists flying around, and fire, and… oh god what happened to my mushrooms?"

Sighing, the mage remembered his apprentice's "village" of mushrooms. He was sure it had been the reason for her failing every single test, as well as multiple counts of falling asleep in training. He had also on occasion thought it had driven her completely insane. It was the one thing he was glad had been burned.

Picking up his staff, he spoke somewhat hesitantly, as the memories still pained him. Still, he was firm as he told her, "The old world is… gone now. Everything is lost." Standing, he saw the shock and horror on her face, and was once again angered at the powers that had left them both so fearful and alone. "We must begin again, and I expect perfect attendance now that you seem to be my only student." He could not keep all the bitterness out of his voice, and he quickly turned towards the direction of his camp.

"It's gone," Zoey whispered, as the gravity of her situation finally hit her. "We're alone. We _are_ alone… right?"

"No." The mage turned to look at her, sadness no longer hidden. "They are with us. Their power has not diminished, simply changed location. And there are more."

"We'll find them." Zoey's eyes narrowed as anger caused her voice to tremble. "We'll get them for this, Rythian."

"That's _Master_ , Zoey," sighed the mage.

"Ooh, Master Zoey, I like that!" Apparently, the apprentice could not remain angry for very long.

"No, I meant… never mind." Rythian breathed deeply and turned towards home once more. "Coming?"

"Yes. But Rythian?"

" _Master._ "

"Master Rythian?"

"What?"

Zoey grinned widely. "I'm so glad to see you."

The mage turned away before she could see the hint of a smile on his face. "Yes, we're all happy now, so let's go home, alright?"

"Yes. Home."


	2. Chapter 2

The encampment was _quite literally_ several feet away, and Zoey had managed to write an entire novel in her spare time.

Rythian powered through it, swinging his water bucket in one hand as they slowly progressed through the hilly terrain. He was sure there was a finite combination of words in the English language, and honestly her chattering was welcome. It was marginally better than the creeper explosions, zombie groans, and mutterings to himself that were all he had heard in weeks. But only marginally. Zoey’s excited voice and sporadic laughter rang through the hills like birdsong as she danced and spun through the valley, stopping only to backtrack when she noticed her master had fallen behind.

"…bet it has a really big spire on the top. And a garden! No, don't tell me, I want to be surprised. Actually do tell me. Wait, no no no! Be calm, Zoey, deep breaths. It’s just so much harder to focus now, I feel naked without my mushrooms. Anyway, wizard tower. I bet it's so pretty. You never really decorated, but I'm sure this one looks better. How long have you been working on it, anyway?" This was her first direct question, which Rythian opened his mouth to answer, but apparently his apprentice could not even wait for a reply. "What's it built out of? I like marble, cause it's all sparkly on the inside, but I lived in a mushroom anyway so it didn't really matter. Ooh, wait, I bet it's all made of diamond blocks! No, that would just look dumb. Is it? I bet it is. Maybe not though. Oh, and did you find… whatever it is that you make into nukes? That greenish stuff, you know? We need nukes for revenge… I think. Anyway, how _are_ we going to kill them? Will there be money? Can we take their money once they're dead?" Zoey stopped and turned to Rythian, wide eyed, obviously expecting an answer. Rythian counted eight different questions, and was trying to choose the best one to answer when his apprentice did a double take and craned her neck to see over his shoulder. She had spotted his camp.

"…That's it?" For the first time since her entire civilization had been destroyed, Zoey actually seemed a little disappointed.

"What's wrong with it?" asked Rythian, turning and taking a hard look at his fortress, which he had constructed in a small indentation between two low hills. "It's a noble sanctuary, which serves its purpose in protecting myself and my _very_ valuable work. It has withstood many an attack!" The mage walked up and hit one side of the shelter lightly with his staff, causing half of the wall to crumble away and leave him standing in a cloud of dust, and up to his knees in sludge.

Coughing and spluttering, he pulled himself up, angrily yanking on his robe until it came free, dripping in mud. "Minor delay," Rythian snapped, annoyed and embarrassed under Zoey's sly gaze. "Well, then," he said sarcastically as he stood, "if you're such the interior decorator, tell me what's wrong with this *cough* perfectly usable *cough* living space."

"Rythian…" Zoey was smiling widely and nodding, as though she was speaking to someone mentally impaired. "Rythian, this house is made of dirt. It's two blocks wide and made of dirt."

"Well, not just any old dirt!" huffed the mage, genuinely insulted. "You think I'd use any disgusting mud I found lying around? No! I _personally_ stole this dirt from Sips Co. It's very fine quality, in fact, very… oh, now they have me sounding like _them!_ "

Zoey was very silent for a moment as she resisted bursting with laughter, both hands covering her mouth to hide her smile.

"Rythian?" she finally sputtered.

"MASTER!"

" _Master_ Rythian?" She mocked a formal bow before him, flourishing her arms.

"What?"

"It's dirt."

"Dammit, don't you think I know that?"

Standing in surprise at his outburst, Zoey looked at Rythian sharply and discovered that he was grinning as well. "Of course you do, o wise and powerful wizard of much knowledge and stuff."

Rythian suddenly realized he was smiling openly, turned to the horizon, and motioned for Zoey to follow. "Well, come on then."

"Where?"

"Wherever you deem neccesary to find materials for this fortress, oh great fashionista."

Zoey brightened again, and resisted jumping up and down like an excited child. "Really? You're letting me design the whole entire thing and make it into a mushroom village all for myself?"

"Well, just that first part,” he hurriedly corrected.  “And not the entire thing, really, just a portion. Well, more like a segment. Or a percentage. Or-"

"But you are letting me design it?"

"Yes, Zoey, I _am_ , now are you coming or not?"

"Yay!" She skipped eagerly over to his side.

Rythian's feelings were a bit hard to discern, but he decided in that moment that he was glad to have a companion who could be more than just his apprentice. They were colleagues now, about the same age, and as he thought back, Zoey's company had already been more helpful than otherwise. In a whole new world of variables, he had a constant; a World Anchor that would keep him on his path and provide equal amounts of manpower for his revenge plans and moral support.

Turning towards the mountains, he spoke to her. "This place doesn't need _that_ much work, you know. Just a little extra, to make it more intimidating."

With that, the entire ceiling of his mighty fortress collapsed in on itself, leaving only three erect walls enclosing a big pile of dirt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, well, I did it, didn't I?

The first step was basalt.

"Bath salts?"

"Yes, Zoey, we're obviously going to build a mage tower out of bath salts."

The harsh winds were only slightly more biting than Rythian's sarcasm, and the combination of these was enough to finally cease Zoey's endless chatter. Pulling her ragged green shawl over her shoulders with a huff, the apprentice pushed more determinedly through the snow. She was beginning to regret that they hadn't stopped even briefly at her master's dirt "home," for her clothes had not been able to dry completely. Now, in the despicable cold of this biome, her meager garb may as well have been a sheet of ice plastered to her body. At least, such was her slightly dramatic interpretation. Snow clung to her bright red hair and almost completely covered it, until a passer-by might have thought her a white-haired old woman, hunched over against the wind.

The tundra was no flat expanse of snow and ice. Its hilled, almost mountainous landscape made it impossible to travel in a straight line to any destination, especially since the travelers had no idea what their destination was. It was hard to believe that even the few existing trees could survive the cold, much less a living volcano. Occasionally, the two were forced to trek over steep hills, a task that was not lessened by the ever-accumulating snow, hidden patches of underbrush, or the piercing wind that never seemed to cease. Needless to say, neither companion was having a great time.

Rythian especially found the silence uncomfortable. He had, at once time, been used to his apprentice's chatter, even liked it, but that was in another world. Despite this, he had been far too quick to grow used to it again, and now he distinctly missed it. Rythian was not one to deny facts, and he now grudgingly accepted his attachment to Zoey's endless strings of words. They filled time he would otherwise spend brooding.

Having acknowledged this, he moved immediately back to his hatred of the unholy cold. From another life, even further back in his memory than the mage tower, he recalled vaguely the warmth of a dragon's fire, the dark seclusion of her nest. Now he was cold, and he hated it. For the first time, however, glancing at Zoey's huddled form as she struggled up the hill, he realized how much worse she must have it. Her whole _world_ , after all, had been one of fire. Wanting to break the silence, perhaps with comforting words, he opened his mouth to speak.

And then they cleared the hill.

" _Remind_ me why we're doing this again?" he exclaimed, as they stared down at a massive frozen lake.

Zoey simply pointed.

Turning his head in the direction of her gesture, he squinted through the snow at a small, orange dot at the far side of the lake. Peering closer, he could see that a huge radius around it had been cleared of snow, and was instead covered in a black substance.

"Bath salts," he murmured unintentionally.

Zoey, glancing at him with her trademark smile, turned, and ran down the hill.

* * *

 

It would have been a comical sight, had anyone been around; the young girl practically flying down the hill, arms out, hair whipping about her face, as a slightly heavyset mage tripped, stumbled, and slid his way after her, all the while calling for her to _slow down, dammit._ Zoey’s cloak flapped behind her in the wind as she hurtled towards the ice. She could faintly hear Rythian warning her to _be careful,_ but his message was lost as she hit the lake at full speed. She slid and nearly fell on the slippery, traction-less surface, but managed to right herself, spreading out her arms for balance. Laughing and shouting, Zoey sped across the frozen lake, skating without skates, her momentum doing all the work for her.

Rythian, having taken the long way around, found her several minutes later on the other side with her head stuck in a snowdrift. “May have gone to fast,” she called weakly, and the mage sighed and knelt to help her out.

* * *

 

Not long after, the two stood together facing the volcano, warmed slightly by its heat. It was not an impressive sight; a pool of bright lava no bigger around than either of them was tall, bubbling slowly from the ground. A wide area around it was covered in dense, black basalt, which had hardened there over many years. This was what had Rythian’s interest – after all, it was what they had come for – but Zoey was entirely captivated by something else.

“Oh my gosh, look at the cute little volcano!” With wide eyes, the girl knelt beside the tiny pool and stared at its depths intently. “It’s like a baby. Baby volcano. Do volcanoes have babies?” She never looked up, and it was clear she had already forgotten asking the question as she gazed down dreamily. The lava’s heat slowly melted the snow in her hair, as sparks drifted upwards and cast a low light on her mystified face.

She was absolutely, ridiculously beautiful and Rythian would have given every ounce of his power to suspend this moment for eternity and let her be this happy, exactly this happy, for the rest of time, because after everything it would still be less than she deserved.

Instead he mumbled something about collecting their basalt, which he thought must have been important to him at some point, and warned her not to fall in as he turned to grab his tools.

Not that fire coud hurt her anyway.


End file.
